


Domestic Bliss

by highlytrainedfangirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluffity fluff, M/M, Then some angst, happy ending I promise, then more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7708201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlytrainedfangirl/pseuds/highlytrainedfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Domestic bliss must suit you Molly, you've put on three pounds.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock chose to ignore his own words when he noticed himself slowly gaining weight, the longer he lived with John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write this for months now after seeing a post on tumblr about how Benedict intentionally gained weight for s2 to show Sherlock eating healthier after moving in with John.

For a genius, Sherlock certainly lacked knowledge of how to take care of himself. Well, that wasn't entirely true, more that he found that particular information to be irrelevant. He got by eating and sleeping enough to survive but definitely less than what most would deem ‘necessary’. Of course when people found this out they tended to fuss over him, something Sherlock had always hated. Every time his parents or Mycroft came to visit, they would try to force him to eat more. Mrs Hudson was constantly trying to get him to eat, bringing up seemingly endless trays of biscuits and tea.  
Even so, Sherlock wasn't used to the constant fussing of someone who cared. It came as a shock to him once John moved him. Every day, at every meal John would try and try to get Sherlock to eat. Every morning he tried to coax Sherlock into eating breakfast. Every evening he would nag Sherlock about going to bed.  
At first it was tedious. John bothered him constantly. What surprised Sherlock the most about all of it though, was how quickly he became accustomed to it. He grew used to having someone there to remind him to eat. And he did.  
It was slow progress but the longer that the two men lived together, the more he ate. For a while I was just the odd piece of toast, then a sandwich each time John are a full meal, to eating smaller portions of whatever John was having.  
Eventually Sherlock began gaining weight, something he hadn't done in a long time. At first he doubted many others noticed, but after several months he overhead Mrs Hudson and John talking in hushed voices.  
“Oh John you living here really has been a blessing. I don't think I never seen Sherlock looking so heathy. Or happy for that matter.”  
“Well I wouldn't put all of that down to me…”  
He didn't bother listening to the rest. The healthier statement he knew to be true, but happier.  
_Domestic bliss must suit you Molly, you've put on three pounds._  
Was that what it was? Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, domestic bliss. He chastised himself for thinking it, but maybe relationships weren't as tedious as he thought.

The next time Mycroft saw him was hell. Not that it wasn't always. His brother took every opportunity to remind Sherlock that he was the younger brother. He teased him and mocked him, insisting that as the eldest Mycroft must therefore be be the most intelligent. Stupid older brothers.  
Of course Mycroft didn't say anything outright. He spent the first fifteen minutes sitting in John's chair smirking in Sherlock’s direction. Because of course he'd noticed the moment he'd seen him. God, how much had he put on now? Must be near three pounds. Dammit.  
After the torturous fifteen minutes of his brother rattling on about their parents, the conversation turned to him.  
“I see you're eating better, and you've been getting a full nights sleep too. I must remember to thank Dr Watson, you've put on four pounds.”  
Sherlock just managed to stop himself from correcting Mycroft but he knew the other man could read the objection in his face. “Mummy will be so pleased to hear how well you're doing. Both your health and your relationship.” The last word was punctuated with a raise of eyebrows. Smug bastard.  
Not even in the flat for half an hour and Mycroft had already worked it out. The one thing that Sherlock himself had taken months to accept. The thing John remained blissfully unaware of.

Once Mycroft had left, mumbling about some meeting or other, Sherlock sank into the sofa and let his mind wander. Domestic bliss. Relationship. John. _John._ Whatever this was, Sherlock was content to live this way. He may mock others for it, but if it was with John, domestic bliss would suit him just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

Two years. Two years dismantling Moriarty’s network and he was finally coming home. Back to Baker Street. Back to John. Those two years would be worth it again to finally return to his home, the casual routine he'd developed with John. His John.  
“Baker Street,” his brothers words cut through. “He isn't there. Why would he be?” The words effected him more than Sherlock would care to admit out loud. He kept talking, allowing his usual façade to hide his emotions. Inside he focused on John and only John. Two years.

It had seemed like such a great idea. He would surprise John, they would both celebrate, and then return home together. Everything would be the way it was supposed to be. Except that John had moved on. He had a girlfriend, no, _fiancée_. He had someone else. He loved someone else.

Wedding planning was so tiresome. Why was he even helping? The last thing he wanted was for John to get married. He couldn't let John leave him. But what could be do? Nothing Sherlock did would stop John and Mary’s wedding. Part of him just wanted for the whole thing to be over and done with. He distracted himself by folding serviettes into the shape of Sydney Opera House.

As he dressed for the wedding, Sherlock did everything he could to ignore the way the shirt he had bought only recently hung too loose off his frame. He hadn't been in a good condition after returning from Serbia and he had only been losing more weight. He just couldn't bring himself to eat anymore.

John was gone. Sherlock was alone. He lay, curled on the sofa, staring blankly but unable to sleep. He knew he should eat, he'd pushed himself to the point where soon he would be worse than when he met John. Mrs Hudson was fussing around him more than ever but it didn't matter, because the only one who'd ever made it matter had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have let it just remain a sweet, fluffy oneshot, but where's the fun in that?


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock never thought it possible to claw his way out of the hell he'd sunk into. His health only fell further after John shut him out.   
But John forgave him.  
Despite everything John forgave him. He forgave him even though Mary's death was his fault. He forgave Sherlock for destroying the life he built after the fall.

John's return to Baker Street brought back a happiness Sherlock hadn't known he could feel. John was by his side, they were living together, back in the life they thought they'd never see again.   
It was true that things had changed. Too much had happened between them since Sherlock first left for them to just pretend. Both men longed to be able to slip back into their easy routine, to live as if nothing had had ever taken place.   
But the air around them hung thick.

It took time. Time for them to recover, to familiarise themselves with each other once again. They may not be able to return to their old life but they could build a new one. Together.   
The struggle to make it work lessened over time, the longer they fought the less it seemed like a battle. No matter what happened, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson would always gravitate towards each other.

With the familiar company of John came a contentedness, a peace, a will to live. John brought comfort. He made Baker Street home.  
At night Sherlock would no longer report to the drugs to carry him away from his loneliness. In the day he would no longer starve himself to the point of collapsing.

As the months went by his skin regained a healthy colour, the bones disappeared beneath layers of skin and fat, he remodelled his body into the human shape it used to hold. Strand by strand be pulled himself back together and John's presence was the glue that held him together.  
They went out to restaurants, ate meals at home together. Meals were not a chore or requirement as before, it was a pleasure, the time of day when Sherlock could spend he most time with John, basking in their companionship.

But Sherlock wasn't just eating for himself anymore. Because it wasn't just him and John. Now there was Rosie.  
He knew she wasn't his daughter. He knew that he'd never cared for children before. But somehow Rosie made him care. He needed to take care of himself in order to be there for her.   
Maybe it was just the Watson effect.  
All he knew was that he had to be there for the family h was building around himself. John made him happy in a way joint else could and raising Rosie alongside him was the greatest privilege he'd ever been granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow sorry this is late. Since chap 1 was s1/2 and chap 2 was s3 I knew that this one would take until at least after s4 but I didn't mean it to be this long...


End file.
